


No one I'd rather be a guinea pig with

by Everydaynerd



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Merpeople, Werewolves, literally who let me write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22870570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everydaynerd/pseuds/Everydaynerd
Summary: For a moment, Clarke thinks she imagined it—there’s no way they actually included that in the morning announcements, right?Only to see Jasper’s screeching that, "OUR COVER IS BLOWN I HAVE ALL OUR NEW IDENTITIES PLANNED LET’S MOVE PEOPLE!!!"orClarke's a mermaid, Bellamy's a werewolf, and they both panic when a faculty member takes special interest in the full moon. chaos ensues.ridiculous, fluffy AU in which both think the other is human + are trying to find out who's figured out their secret
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Monty Green/Nathan Miller
Comments: 8
Kudos: 185





	No one I'd rather be a guinea pig with

**Author's Note:**

> the high school I work at included the moon phase and sunset time in the announcements one morning, and this happened.

Every mermaid knows to be careful on the full moon—knows about the spell it puts on their kind.

(The violence and chaos that can be caused by a merperson who isn’t _careful_. The inability to shift out of scaleform.)

It’s the only reason Clarke speaks to her mother—the woman had a hand in her father’s death, for which Clarke will never forgive her, but she now provides the herbs that help them all to merely shift through the moon’s rotation, while staying in control, rather than causing mayhem that ruins their lives come morning.

So she speaks to Abby—agrees to a weekly lunch in exchange for her providing the herbs and a safe place for Clarke’s pod (all estranged youth, naturally) to live and to wait out the moon once a month.

All of which to say, Clarke could rattle off the next full moon and what date it changes for the next six months at any given point. She knows the current moon phase.

She has reason to keep track of the full moon.

(The trouble starts when it turns out someone else does, too.)

/

/

Clarke is mostly tuned out of class, her attention on the sketch that started as a doodle but is now one of her favorite pieces.

It’s the day after the full moon, so she feels off, as usual—tells herself she deserves a little while to relax, just for today.

Bellamy Blake is scowling, of course, typing away at his phone like always—this is the only class they have together this year, and they’re both seniors, so it’s the last time she’ll have to put up with him, thank Poseidon.

It’s not that he’s human—despite the prejudices merpeople used to hold, things have changed radically over the last century; at this point, most pods live primarily on land. Half the merfolk she knows have a significant amount of human lineage.

(It’s complicated—she’d like to chalk it up to merpeople having learned they’re no better than humans, and to humans learning merpeople aren’t a threat, but there’s also the fact that most people don’t know merpeople are real anymore.)

(When people don’t believe in you, they don’t see you as a threat.)

(Don’t burn you at the stake for things they don’t understand.)

But Bellamy Blake is an _asshole_ , of the highest caliber.

He claims to care about his education and want to go to college but never applies himself, just—he gives her shit for anything and everything under the sun.

He regularly comes at her about her crappy relationship with her mom—calls her an ungrateful princess for not wanting a relationship with the woman.

(He has no idea.)

Her teacher is sitting in the corner knitting while they all finish some garbage busywork; the end of the day announcements are rattling on about events this week, and she’s starting to map out her plan for the weekend when the voice on the intercom says, _“and for your weather report, today sunset will be at 6:22pm and the moon is in the waning gibbous phase.”_

For a moment, Clarke thinks she imagined it—there’s no way they _actually_ included that in the morning announcements, right?

She looks around the room with wide eyes; the teacher has paid no mind, and everyone else doesn’t seem to have noticed.

Then Harper texts, _did we do that? Should we be worried?_

And she’s half relieved she didn’t hallucinate it—but the other half of her is terrified at the implications.

Before she can reply to Harper, the pod group chat (for everyone in high school, anyway) starts blowing up, her phone’s buzzing earning her a glare from Bellamy.

(Nothing she hasn’t received before.)

Jasper is freaking out, of course, while Maya tries to bring him back down to earth; meanwhile, Murphy is entirely lost, having skipped school and checked his phone only to see Jasper’s screeching that, _OUR COVER IS BLOWN I HAVE ALL OUR NEW IDENTITIES PLANNED LET’S MOVE PEOPLE!!!_

Clarke groans, switching her phone to do not disturb; she starts packing up her bag preemptively, knowing she needs to find Lincoln and Wells ASAP so they can do damage control.

The bell rings and she’s out of her seat, hustling to the door only for Bellamy to slide ahead of her, moving away as quickly as if he were being chased.

/

Bellamy rubs at his eyes tiredly, Raven hot on his heels.

Octavia is at home making go bags just in case, Emori is distracting a panicked Gina, and _somehow_ Madi found out about the announcement even though she’s a sixth grader at school across the city and keeps asking for more details out of pure interest.

It’s—some days the weight of being pack alpha feels tangible, a burden pushing him closer and closer to collapse.

 _“We have no reason to worry, and no reason to believe this is because of us,”_ he keeps reminding all of them; he wishes he believed it himself.

Miller is trying to find out details right now, casually asking the announcer about the change up in routine in the hopes of sniffing out the cause—making sure they’re not found out.

Bellamy is trying to convince himself if someone had realized there were werewolves in their midst they would’ve gone about addressing it more directly, but in all honesty he’s not sure.

(And they can’t afford to be caught unawares.)

 _How could this happen?_ He’s supposed to protect the pack from things like this.

He’s mentally composing backup plan after backup plan, trying to figure out a way to get all of them relocated and reintegrated worst case scenario—cover stories, financials, all of it.

“You need to calm down, Blake,” Raven commands. “We’ll get through whatever this is. It isn’t your fault. The pack will be okay.”

He narrows his eyes. “Why are you so sure that’s what I’m stressed about?” Raven quirks an eyebrow, and he sighs. “Okay, well, it’s too big of a risk to take! I can’t believe I let this happen, I—”

“This wasn’t you. Worst case scenario, someone slipped up, and whoever knows is just trying to mess with us—if they knew _who_ it was, they wouldn’t bother with the charade. We just need to be careful. And it could just be coincidence, or a joke or something.”

“Maybe.” He blows out a deep breath, nods that she’s probably right.

This is why Raven’s beta—she’s _logical_. Counters his crazy; she’s his rock.

(They both know you can’t depend on anyone else in this world.)

Miller finds them, expression stoic.

“What’s the verdict?” Raven asks, adjusting the knee brace on her bad leg before sitting up fully from where she’s been laying on the sidewalk.

“Announcer definitely isn’t in on it—seemed like he thought it was just as odd as anyone else, but it was a faculty request, so he had to include it.”

Raven’s nodding, but Bellamy worries at his lip. “Faculty? Who?”

(Miller grimaces, then—that’s when Bellamy knows to worry.)

“Head of the science department.”  
 _“Fuck.”_ Raven scowls, the righteous anger crackling off of her; meanwhile, Bellamy is overcome with horror.

(A scientist is looking into them—it’s the _they’ll-experiment-on-us_ nightmare everyone only ever hears of in old wolves’ tales.)

“Yeah.” Miller rubs at his chin. “I tried to find out more, but—the announcer was starting to look confused about why we were so curious, so I figured better to head out before he got suspicious.”

“We?” Raven clarifies.

“Griffin.” Bellamy rolls his eyes at her name, but Miller continues. “The weird part, though, was that she looked just as terrified as us. And when he said it was the science department—I’ve never seen her so pale.”

“Like she has anything to be worried about,” Bellamy mutters. “Okay, well—even though she was nervous too, I don’t trust it—I want someone tailing her until we’re sure she has nothing to do with it.”

“I have a better idea,” Octavia announces, making them all jump at her silent approach. “One of her sidekicks works at my gym—we end up there at the same time a lot, because I think he does weights while I’m in MMA, but I know he does a kickboxing class, too. I’ll just get in, flirt a little, try to find out if anything’s amiss.”

“I—okay, yeah, that sounds good.” Bellamy’s too frazzled to put much thought into it

/

/

“Murphy is our best bet for a spy,” Lincoln decides, all strategy during their emergency pod meeting. “Very few people know he has any association with us to begin with, and he comes off as hostile and apathetic enough that none of them will ever expect him to be eavesdropping on them.”

“Don’t make me blush, Link,” Murphy says dryly.

Clarke tilts her head, weighing the suggestion. “I agree. You down, Murphy?”

“Naturally.” He stretches, cracking his back with a yawn. “It’s about time something interesting happened around here.”

Harper chides him, but Clarke watches the way his eyes follow Maya and Jasper, who look terrified—but slightly less so, at Murphy’s unbothered air.

(The nonchalance is for their benefit—is to try to calm them down.)

“Cool.” She takes a deep breath. “I’ll keep trying on the faculty front—see if I can narrow down the exact teacher, find out if anyone knows what this is all about. Until we know more…everyone just be careful, okay?”

Everyone murmurs their agreement, before heading off to do homework or watch tv or go to work, as per usual.

Clarke puts her head in her hands, the stress emanating from her body.

“Breathe,” Wells reminds her, a gentle hand on her back. “We’re gonna figure this out. Nothing is gonna happen to anyone in the pod.”

She nods, forces a smile of confirmation.

(They both know she’s too anxious to believe it.)

/

It’s been almost a week since the incident, and— _nothing_.

Clarke hasn’t been able to find a way to subtly interrogate whatever teacher instigated this whole mess; Murphy hasn’t turned up any dirt on Miller, Blake, and Reyes being shady despite all the time he’s been spending around them.

There are just—no leads.

She hasn’t been sleeping more than a couple hours a night, too stressed at the prospect of her family being in trouble, and she thinks if something doesn’t change soon she might lose her mind.

It’s Monday, though, which means her volunteering session at the youth center in town; she teaches the kids art, and mostly they just draw or paint whatever they’re feeling, but they know she cares about them so they’re respectful even when they don’t care about the strategy she’s teaching.

The kids range from ten to eighteen—so sometimes they’re older than her, which always feels strange to navigate—and tonight’s more well attended than usual, which is good but also somewhat overhwhelming given her already frazzled state.

One of her favorites is there, though—a sweet girl named Madi she clicked with her first session that tries to come most weeks.

Madi’s so similar to her at that age it kills her—the type to lash out when scared, to put up walls to keep from being hurt. And she’s not especially talented at art by any means, but she enjoys it nonetheless. She’s opened up to Clarke so, _so_ slowly, but each little bit is the most amazing thing in the world to see.

Clarke’s packing up the supplies at the end—some provided by the center, some she brings with her to give the kids more options.

Madi comes up to help, and they’re chattering away about how school’s going, how the big brother and sister Madi always mentions are, a new movie coming out she’s looking forward to.

“What’s this? Oh, shit!”

Clarke’s head snaps upward, bracing herself for spilled paint or something similarly messy, only to see Madi clutching at her palm, a drawing rod clattering to the floor—something she never uses, just keeps to talk about the history of art and ancient Roman practices.

Except Madi’s starting to wobble, and when Clarke meets her eyes they’re bright yellow.

(Not human.)

“Fuck—Madi, what are you?” she asks hurriedly, worried by the way the younger girl’s skin is rapidly losing color.

Madi whimpers, starting to back away like she’s scared.

“No, no, you’re okay! I’m not going to hurt you,” Clarke gently soothes, trying to stay calm herself.

(But she doesn’t know what Madi is, so she doesn’t know how to help her, and it’s—terrifying.)

Madi’s just watching her, eyes wide and scared, so Clarke takes a deep breath and reveals, “I’m not human either, Madi.”

She taps into her nature, lets her eyes flash the kind of iridescent silver most people associate with scales—watches Madi’s jaw drop.

“Now please tell me what you are and what happened so we can get you help, okay?”

Madi whimpers, letting the palm that she’s been covering open up. “What was that? The rod I grabbed.”

“It’s an instrument for silverwork—it’s an ancient art practice, doesn’t matter, but—basically, just a solid silver instrument for drawing.” Clarke frowns when Madi closes her eyes at the comment. “Madi? Hon, what is it?”

“Silver,” Madi whispers. “I accidentally poked myself with the rod, just a bit, but—I’m a werewolf. I think I have silver poisoning.”

“Damn it.” Madi starts to wobble and Clarke reaches to keep her upright, half of the younger girl’s weight on her. “Okay, I know nothing about werewolves—what do you need?”

“I—don’t know. I think there’s a plant, or something—my brother has all the stuff so I don’t usually worry about it.”

Clarke hurries her out the door and into her car; she’s not usually one for speeding, but she’s so, so scared about not getting there in time and something bad happening to Madi.

She probably should be more surprised that werewolves exist, but also other non-humans just doesn’t seem far-fetched—after vampires, she pretty much lost the ability to be shocked by these things.

When they arrive at Madi’s home, she’s carrying the younger girl bridal style, arms trembling at the weight, and she just leans up against the doorbell until the door swings open, slamming against the wall inside.

Bellamy Blake, of all people, stands there, arms crossed and angry. “What the fuck are _you_ doing here?”

Before she can reply, though, he spots Madi in her arms, and his whole demeanor changes.

His face goes soft, and he scoops her out of Clarke’s arms with a practiced ease. “What happened, pup?” he says softly. He turns back to Clarke with a glare. “What did you do to her?”

Clarke scowls at him but doesn't bother to defend herself—there’ll be time for that after Madi’s taken care of. “A silver art utensil broke the skin on her hand—the wound itself isn’t bad but she thinks it’s silver poisoning.”

Bellamy swivels immediately, hurries inside without closing the door; Clarke awkwardly follows behind him.

“Mads I’ve told you a million times to be careful around silver,” he chides softly, even as he shifts her to one side of his body so he can start gathering ingredients with his free arm. “This is why I’m going to go gray prematurely. Between you and Octavia I’ll never be able to fall asleep at night.”

“What’d O do now?” Raven asks, yawning as she walks into the kitchen. “Shit—what did this one get herself into?”

“Silver poisoning. And now Griffin knows about us, so start thinking up ways to deal with that before she tries to run away.”

“Great job,” Clarke says sarcastically. “Keep planning like I can’t hear you. Genius. What would you do if I were actually someone intending to out you, Blake? You need to come up with a better strategy.”

Gina pads into the room in sweatpants and a soft looking sweater. “Hey, can you guys try to keep it down a bit? Emori’s studying for a calc test tomorrow—she’s trying to pretend she’s not stressed about but I can smell the cortisol.”

“Wait—Gina?” Clarke’s eyes widen.

The other girl blinks at her in surprise. “Clarke?” She hurries to hug her, pulling back with a shocked smile. “I haven’t seen you in—god, it’s been years, now.”

“I didn’t even know you still lived around here—after you stopped coming to camp, I assumed you moved away. But you—you live here? And you’re a werewolf?”

Gina’s face tightens. “Yeah, that was—the year I got bit. My parents…well, you know how they are. Pulled me out of school, kept me home and away from others, everything you’d expect.”

“Damn. Which—still shocked werewolves are real, for the record.” Clarke tugs at her hair, making the haphazard bun it’s tied in even more messy. “And that lycanthropy is transmitted through bites. I suppose the stories do get _some_ things right.”

“Well you can be born _or_ bitten—although everyone in our pack was born, except me and Bellamy.”

Bellamy snaps, arms gesticulating dramatically as soon as he’s gotten Madi to swallow the antidote. “Um, hello—what the fuck are you doing? We need to be defusing the fact that an outsider knows about us, not giving her more details to fucking expose us.”

“I would _never_.” Clarke visibly simmers. “If you were capable of letting someone else speak for _one moment_ —”

“Why would I believe _anything_ a human has to say about it?”

  
“Probably because she’s literally a mermaid you fucking idiot,” Gina says dryly.

The remark draws Bellamy to a pause; he doesn’t even look at Clarke, just—freezes.

“Come again?”

Clarke groans, rubbing at her temples. “Mermaid. Water makes me half fish. Full moons make me go haywire. Gina found out when we were roommates at camp when we were eight” She settles her gaze on Bellamy thoughtfully. “I’m assuming you freaked out when they added the phases into the announcements the other day—I’m probably the only person who was as panicked as you when it happened.”

“Her eyes can go rainbow colors too,” Madi rasps.

Both Bellamy and Clarke move closer to her, and she bats at them both. “Calm down, Mom and Dad, I’m _fine.”_

“You scared me to death, kid,” Bellamy says gruffly, ruffling at her hair. He’s scowling like he’s mad, but the relief is visible in every inch of his body.

Clarke is likewise drinking in the sight of the girl sitting up. “Me too. And you’re lucky it was me, Mads—what if it had actually _been_ a human with you? You need to start telling people you have a silver allergy, or something. If something had happened to you…”

 _I’d never forgive myself_ , she doesn’t say, but Bellamy meets her eyes and even though they’ve never been friends, she knows they understand each other—knows he’s thinking it too.

Bellamy takes a deep breath, looking back at Madi. “Why don’t you go ahead on up to bed, kid. I’m gonna be dealing with spillover anxiety for a bit but I know you know you fucked up, so you’re not in trouble or anything. Get some rest—yell if you need anything, okay?”

Madi throws her arms around him, like she knows he needs the reminder that she’s okay—needs physical proof his sister (his _kid,_ really) is going to be alright. “Love you, Bell.”

“Love you too, pup.”

She scampers off, Gina motioning that she’s following behind her.

And somehow Clarke finds herself seated at a table with Bellamy Blake and Raven Reyes, of all people.

“So…werewolves?”

Bellamy opens his mouth, something defensive on the tip of his tongue, but Raven levels Clarke with her gaze before he can. “Mermaids?”

“Touché.”

“Guess we can tell O she doesn’t have to keep eyes on Lincoln anymore,” Bellamy mutters. “We know why you were so invested in the announcement.”

Raven and Clarke both snort, raising their eyebrows at him, and he looks back and forth between them. “What?”

“Are you blind?” Clarke asks.

“No—why are you both looking at me like that?”

Clarke shakes her head, refusing to clarify further; Raven crosses her arms. “She and Lincoln are smitten, Blake. They’ve been making eyes across the gym for a month, and your little recon mission gave her the perfect excuse to approach him. Madi and I have a bet on how long before they make it official—speaking of which, Griffin, can you ask him to hold off on telling people for at least a week?”

“You’re trying to win money from a twelve year old and you want me to _help_?”

Raven blinks at her. “I mean, yes. For the record, she won the money _currently_ bet from a bet with Octavia about Gina and I getting together, so. I think it’s fair.”

“Your pod is nuts,” Clarke mumbles to Bellamy.

“Pod?”

“Your family, I mean—er, I suppose for you it’s a pack. Mermaids tend to use pod, like dolphins.”

“Oh. Yeah. Also, isn’t Lincoln a little old for her?”

“About as much older as you were than Echo,” Raven reminds him with a smirk. “I dare you to say it to O. You know how she loves hypocrisy.”

“Fuck.” His hands tug at his hair. “Awesome. This night is just—it keeps getting better.”

Clarke grimaces, because as ridiculous as his overprotectiveness is, it’s understandable that he’s worried when he just saw his other sister poisoned.

He clears his throat. “We should talk about it, though—the announcement. You had nothing to do with it, then?”

“Nope.” Clarke purses her lips. “Our best guess is that someone suspects and is trying to draw us out. But we haven’t been able to find out much other than that it’s someone in the science department.”

“Same.”

He reaches to pull out his worn-down laptop, and Clarke begins to relay her speculations aloud, and—

(it begins.)

/

And then they’re working together, trying to figure out who the hell instigated the new announcements—it’s been there every day since the first time, and every day both the wolves and the merpeople grow tenser.

(Every day the full moon approaches.)

Clarke finds herself talking to Bellamy every day, and then several times a day, and then they’re hanging out just in case something comes up.

(Bellamy Blake might be an asshole, but…he’s an asshole that she _likes_.)

Their families are getting alone well, too—Lincoln and Octavia are dating, now, and Wells has frequent conversations with Miller and Raven, and Murphy has a weird bond with Madi (and some sort of violent flirting thing with Emori no one but them understands).

Clarke almost forgets, sometimes—that it’s all to figure out who’s posing a threat to them.

(That Bellamy wouldn’t spend hours arguing art history with her if they weren’t waiting for an all clear.)

(That once they figure this thing out, she won’t wake up tucked into his bed while he snoozes on the couch after she falls asleep in the middle of their documentary.)

Almost.

/

The day the full moon hits…they’re all on alert, all day.

(The announcement that day hits them all like electricity down the spine.)

It’s more important than ever to act normal, and they’re doing their best, but everyone is so crippled by anxiety and terrified about what happens next that they’re just—off.

The lucky thing is that there are enough of them to influence others, too, so plenty of humans are swept up in the frenzy and likewise acting bizarrely.

(All Clarke can do is hope it’s enough.)

There are several hours between the end of the school day and moonrise, but they’re all too on edge to make use of them—instead, they’re all at the house the merpeople live in (thanks, Abby).

They have music on—the volume turned almost silent, as everyone’s senses are heightened this of all days—and a couple people are snoozing, and Clarke and Bellamy are in the kitchen anxiously portioning out the doses of wolfsbane and sirenscourge herbs preemptively.

And if nothing else, the friends this shitshow of a situation has made them will be a light whatever happens next.

Wells and Octavia put up chains and shutters and deadbolt all the doors, just as a precaution—they can’t afford any risk, however small.

Bellamy doesn’t meet Clarke’s eyes, but clears his throat as he keeps doling out the portions she’s then sealing and organizing. “I have a question. And I don’t want you to take it the wrong way, becase it’s not—I’m not trying to harass you, I just genuinely don’t understand.”

She swallows heavily, expecting the worst, but—Bellamy’s her friend, now. They’ve spent so many hours together, offered up so many late night confessions over the last month—she can’t deny him the truth about anything. “Hit me.”

“Why do you hate your mom so much?” He watches her reaction (the lack thereof) carefully, before expanding. “I—I know I’ve given you a lot of shit about it in the past, and now that we’re—closer, I guess—I know better than to assume it’s irrational. But I just…I loved my mom so much. I would give anything for another day with her, as flawed of a person as she was. So seeing you go out of your way to avoid yours…”

“I—” Clarke blows a strand of hair out of her face—hesitates, before responding. “I can imagine how it looks. And I know it’s—in a lot of ways, I’m really lucky to have her. She does a lot for me, and for the pod, in the way of money and resources, and—I try not to take that for granted.

“But she…there was a scandal, in the mermaid network, that my dad uncovered years ago. He wanted to go public—thought everyone had a right to know it wasn’t an accident so many herb sources were being compromised, that so many of our people had gone missing. He told me about it—said he was going to my mom the next day and then we would take it public. But he died before we ever could.”

She meets Bellamy’s gaze, then. “My mom was in on it. The rest…it’s a long story, but suffice to say she arranged for him to be taken out rather than the truth come out. So the checks she sends, the house she pays for…it’s all blood money, to me.”

Bellamy remains silent for a moment—reaches a hand over to squeeze hers.

(It’s the kind of thing sorry doesn’t help.)

“I really feel like we live in a supernatural soap opera, some days,” he says softly, testing out if the humor will lighten her mood.

And it does—a small laugh escapes her, and she bumps his shoulder with hers before getting back to work.

When the darkness comes, everyone goes quiet.

The potions are doing their jobs, and they’re all clustered together in the living room, curled up with an assortment of blankets and pillows and beanbags, hoping to pass out once the shifts start.

They’re anxious, and quiet, and all the wolves whimper as the transformation hits, and they’re rendered furry and fanged but harmless. The mermaids’ eyes likewise shift, but they stay in control, hypervigilant and anxious.

For the first hour, everything is still—occasional whispers, baited breath any time sounds from outside make their way in.

But eventually it feels pretty certain that no one’s showing up to jump them—they talk, and they sleep, and they watch a lot of Disney despite Madi, Murphy, and Raven making fun of every movie.

Clarke and Bellamy can’t relax, though.

He can’t speak in wolf form, but he’s fully aware, and he and Clarke have figured each other out enough by this point that they’re able to communicate even when he’s nonverbal.

“If no one was trying to figure us out, what was all of this for?” Clarke chews on the inside of her cheek. “Is it bad that I’m almost _more_ upset that nothing went wrong? At least then we would’ve had some kind of clue about what we’re dealing with.”

Bellamy huffs in a way that means he agrees, then leans his head into her lap.

“Yeah, we’re both control freaks, aren’t we,” Clarke sighs. “But I like to think we have pretty good reason to be.”

The two of them and Murphy are the last hold outs, seated around the table while everyone else’s snores echo through the house.

Murphy raises his eyebrows at Bellamy’s head in Clarke’s lap, and she mouths at him to _shut the fuck up_ , and they talk about trivial and existential matters interchangeably as is par for the course with their friendship, trying to ignore the fact that this night could mean their impending doom.

And when the sun rises the three of them barely react.

/

Most of them are exhausted the next day, the paranoia having made them sleep only sparingly during what’s already not the most restful night of the month.

They’re all waiting for the other shoe to drop; hyperaware at their desks. Bellamy and Clarke are whispering nonstop before the bell rings.

“What if they’re waiting to call us out of class?”

“No, that’d be too obvious. I think they’ll come for us after school—we can get Gina and your mom to get everyone away, you and I can be a distraction.”

  
Clarke raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know if I’m offended that you don’t value my life enough to try to get me to safety, or glad that you know I’m too self-sacrificing to be one of the ones escaping.”

Bellamy laughs, and Clarke leans her head on his shoulder; their teacher gives them a strange look, as he has been every time they’ve been suddenly friendly in class the last few weeks.

“Do you think we should just—go to the science wing? Beat them to the punch?” Clarke muses. “Wells and Lincoln wanted to stay, too, but I told them we need to be split up so there’s still someone to take care of the pod if something happens to me. Which—they agreed, but I’m worried they’ll come back to check on us, so I’d rather deal with it all sooner than later.”

“I’d like to yell at you for being pessimistic but I told Raven the same. Miller insisted, though, so he’ll probably be joining us. And—might as well get it over with.”

So when the bell rings, they stand in the hallway till everyone is gone, waiting for the school to be empty.

Bellamy catches himself staring at Clarke—but she’s staring back, biting her lip, and he can’t help but take a step closer. “Whatever happens, I’m glad this whole mess brought us together.”

“That is _very_ irresponsible of you,” Clarke chides, but her lips twitch, and they both know she’s thinking it too. “But I guess if we end up abducted in a minute here, there’s not anyone else I’d rather be a guinea pig in a lab with.”

“I mean, I would personally rather be with someone else so that I could know you’re _safe_ , but if my well-being means so little to you—”

“Shut up and kiss me, Blake,” Clarke interrupts.

“As you wish.”

She blushes at the reference, reaching for his collar at the same time as he leans down to meet her lips with his.

It’s not perfect—there’s a bit of awkwardness and adjusting.

(But it’s wonderful, and it’s _theirs_.)

And it’s just the beginning.

(That is—if they don’t die five minutes from now.)

They both pull away after a moment, out of breath. Clarke meets his eyes, and they just—look at each other, for a moment.

It’s all she can do is hope that somehow they’ll have more time.

Bellamy holds a hand out, palm up in offering. “Off to our doom?”

She weaves her fingers through his. “Can’t wait.”

They make their way to the science building quickly, only coming across one distracted looking administrator on her way out.

Miller meets them just as they’re about to head inside, dressed in athletic clothes and hypervigilant. “Anything yet?”

“No.” Bellamy sighs, rubbing at his jaw in a way that makes him seem thirty years older. “I was really hoping you wouldn’t come.”

“You know better than that. Besides, me coming is the only reason everyone else agreed to stay away.”

Clarke’s gaze snaps to him. “Excuse me?”

Miller raises an eyebrow, unbothered by the murder in both leaders’ eyes. “We have a group chat for all of us in the pack and the pod. Everyone agreed you two couldn’t go alone because you’re martyrs at heart—we agreed I was the one you were most likely to let come, so the rest of them relented when you told them they couldn’t to soften you up for when I let you know I’d be along.”

“Why are we not in the group chat?” Bellamy scowls, as though this is the part that bothers him the most.

The other man sighs, rolling his eyes. “It’s literally named _what mom and dad don’t know_ —it would defeat the purpose for mom and dad to be in it. The whole point is to discuss when you two are being ridiculous and we need to intervene. In more ways than one,” he trails off, the last bit muttered under his breath.

“We’ll deal with you lot later,” Clarke decides. She takes a deep breath before turning to the doors before them. “Here goes.”

They hurtle through the doorway, sprinting to the classroom of the teacher they’re told is responsible for the announcements.

Bellamy’s the first one in, jerking to a halt so suddenly that Clarke runs straight into his back, hands clasping at the backs of his shoulders to remain upright.

Clarke bends to see around him, and feels her eyes widen with surprise at the sight of none other than Monty (Jasper’s best non-pod friend who she’s had tons of classes with over the years), leaning over a rack of test tubes, still not having noticed their presence due to the headphones covering his ears blasting music so loudly it’s audible to Clarke.

She feels Miller come up behind her, and then Bellamy turns to consult on their next move—evidently, the motion is enough to draw Monty’s attention, because the guy in question jumps with a squeal an octave higher than his speaking voice before taking off the headphones.

“Clarke! Nate! B-Bellamy.”

“I feel so loved,” Bellamy says dryly.

Monty just blinks at them. “What—what are you guys doing here? Do you need help with the bio homework, or something?”

“No, we’re, uh, looking for Mr. Wilson,” Clarke informs him, moving closer to where he’s seated on a lab stool.

“I think he’s gone for the day.” Monty tilts his head quizzically, looking apologetic. “I have his cellphone number, if it’s urgent, but he’s usually pretty quick to head out after school ends to pick his son up from daycare.”

Clarke massages her temples. “I don’t understand. He…”

She turns to Bellamy, and they begin communicating in rapid sentence fragments incomprehensible to anyone else, trying to figure out what they’d miscalculated.

“—bitten recently? And he just asked—”

“—for himself? But then his routine would’ve changed…”

Miller decides to make the most of the moment, walking nearer to Monty with one corner of his mouth upturned. “What are you here after hours for, anyway?”

Monty’s cheeks grow pink. “Oh, well, I just—checking up on a plant.” When Miller raises his eyebrows like he wants more detail, Monty sheepishly elaborates. “It’s for something I’m working on outside of school, but the plant required is really finnicky to try to grow, so I have to be here to check it consistently and make sure the conditions are alright. It was such a process, actually—the plant has to be planted during a full moon and then cared for certain ways during particular moon phases for at least one full lunar cycle, so I had to keep track and—”

“Sorry, what did you just say?” Clarke’s eyes are wide, the phrase ‘full moon’ having pulled her out of the speculation with Bellamy. “You’ve been keeping track of full moons? Why? How?”

“Er—like I was telling Nate, for a particular plant, and as for the how, well, I asked Mr. Wilson if he knew of a good way and he just went to the office and asked them to integrate it into the morning announcements; I thought people would think it was a bit odd, but no one even seemed to notice.”

Bellamy swallows thickly before clarifying. “You—the moon phase was being included in the announcement for you? Solely to take care of your plant?”

“Yes?”

Clarke just—collapses backward intentionally, ever the dramatic, sprawling across a tabletop. “Oh my god.”

“Clarke! Are you okay?” Monty rushes up to her.

For a moment, Bellamy thinks he’s imagining it, but no; Monty’s skin is shimmering, light cascading from his body.

“Monty, what—”

Monty gapes, face growing beet red. “Shoot, I—god, I really need to get a handle on my magic. Sorry.”

“Did you just say _magic_?” Bellamy’s fists tug at the roots of his own hair, his entire body visibly tense.

“Yeah, I—uh, I’m a warlock, actually—sorry, my magic is really out of control when I’m stressed or anxious or—any emotion, really.” He bites his lip nervously. “Please don’t tell anyone—I’ve been trying to be so careful not to be caught since I presented, this is—”

“I just can’t get over this.” Clarke groans, sitting up on the desk and leaning her entire weight against Bellamy as he instinctively reaches an arm around her back to support her. “This whole month of panic. We thought we were about to _die_ and it’s just Monty. And a goddamn plant.”

Bellamy nods in agreement, but smiles fondly, bumping her arm with his. “This is the part where Raven and Octavia get onto us about being overprotective and freaking out over nothing, you know.”

“Not if we don’t tell them,” she proposes, eyes bright.

“Yeah, that’s definitely not happening,” Miller calls to them, phone already out. “I’m texting them an update right now, but nice try.”

Clarke huffs, but turns back to Bellamy with a flirty smile. “So. We’re alive. That’s cool.”

“Very cool.” A cocky grin creeps onto his face. “Didn’t die _and_ got a girlfriend—I think this is the most productive day I’ve had in a while, really.”

Her eyebrow hikes. “I’m your girlfriend, am I?”

“If that’s okay with you.” Bellamy tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, but the look in his eyes is nervous—vulnerable. “We made a pretty good team today, it seems a shame not to keep it up. No one else I’d rather have watching my back. You and me against the world, princess?”

She rolls her eyes, but tilts her face forward till her forehead is touching his. “Yeah, okay. But I’m still gonna make a lot of lycanthropy jokes. And you’re not allowed to keep Madi from going to the Valentine’s dance. And—”

“Whatever the hell you want,” he promises against her lips.

“I still don’t understand,” Monty announces, oblivious to their interlude. “Why did you guys think you were about to die? Why are you so calm about me being a warlock—what the heck does my plant have to do with anything?”

Miller finishes taking the picture of Bellamy and Clarke mid-make out he was catching on his phone with a smirk, and turns to Monty with a small smile. “Let’s grab dinner—there’s a lot I have to tell you.”

* * *

**_what mom and dad don’t know_ **

> **Miller:** Update—everyone’s alive. It was all a false alarm—will explain later, but heads up we have a new pet warlock (my boyfriend, pending). Also, jasper, no need for operation bellarke to commence— [attachment.jpg]
> 
> **Jasper Not Whitlock:** I want to be mad I wasn’t there to see it but can’t even be bothered bc my ship has SAILED
> 
> **Raven:** @ O now is a good time to tell him about the coffee maker being broken
> 
> **8 the great:** madi I will give u $5 if you say it was you
> 
> **Abe Lincoln:** my girlfriend bribes children to escape culpability. awesome.
> 
> **8 the great:** shut up don’t u have seashells to string together or something ariel
> 
> **Mur(man)phy:** keep up the Disney jokes, Lassie, I have plenty of puns ready to fire back
> 
> **Mur(man)phy:** Jasper fix my name or you’ll wake up on the roof again
> 
> ** >>> _Mad-E added Mom to the chat_ <<<**
> 
> **Jasper Not Whitlock:** MADI WHY WOULD YOU LET CLARKE INTO THE SACRED LAWLESS PLACE
> 
> **Mom:** because unlike the rest of you ingrates Madi actually loves me + doesn’t want to keep things from us
> 
> **Mad-E:** actually she promised to convince Bellamy to let me upgrade to a smartphone
> 
> **Mom:** hush they don’t have to know, let me guilt them
> 
> **Mom:** anyway
> 
> **Mom:** I know you heathens had bets on Bell and I getting together + I won’t tell him as long as whoever won splits the winnings w me
> 
> **Mom:** which, also, you’re welcome
> 
> **Raven:** who did win anyway? I was way off I anticipated at least another month of pining
> 
> **Wells Jaha:** yeah they’re both so stubborn I put down summer at the earliest rip
> 
> **Mom:** WELLS I can’t believe you joined this madness
> 
> **8 the great:** the only madness was you two making us watch ur incessant flirting, u should be paying US in damages tbh
> 
> **Rey(es) of light:** really tho who won?
> 
> **Rey(es) of light:** jasper if you don’t stop changing names I swear to god
> 
> **Harper Lee:** me!
> 
> **Harper Lee:** Also, deal @ Clarke will let you know when I have collected from the rest
> 
> ** >>> _8 the great removed Mom from the chat_ <<<**
> 
> **Jasper Not Whitlock:** now back to our regularly scheduled programming
> 
> **Jasper Not Whitlock:** viva la bellarke

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
